A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  It became evident that high-speed carbon steel (HSS) would have to be the initial choice for cutting edges. Yozef vetoed tungsten carbide as too difficult for the foreseeable future. Alloys of iron with other metals such as cobalt and nickel worked well, but the extraction and the purification limited supplies . . . again . . . for the time being. Nevertheless, Mark was confident the HSS they were now producing was the hardest steel anywhere on Anyar.

  “Mark, I think we’ll keep the high-speed steel in our back pocket for now,” said Yozef after seeing an HSS saw blade easily cutting samples of metal. “I’ll probably eventually give your process to the Fuomi, but let’s wait until we want something from them in the next few months. Having the HSS steel might help convince them if they’re hesitant.”

  Now that the casting of parts and the manufacture of HSS cutting tools were practical, the production of other tools was accelerating.

  “I admit I was wrong being hesitant when you insisted on starting with machine tools, rather than the real projects,” Yozef said to Mark as he watched two lathes working on the first drill press. “I’m afraid I’ve more foresight with chemicals and flasks than machines, which is why seeing this confirms how much I needed an engineer.”

  “That’s okay, Yozef,” Mark said with a laugh. “A bunch of flasks and different-colored solutions look like alchemy to me.”

  Yozef joined the good humor then and during a short evening at the Snarling Graeko before going home. He would later rue that if the Fates existed, they were exceedingly cruel. Events unfolding elsewhere on Caedellium would short-circuit his good mood.

  Hanslow, Brell Clan Capital

  Shumenia Larcol started the day’s last round in her assigned hospital ward. Seventeen years old, she was a medicant aide whose decision time neared for whether she would commit to studying to be a medicant or be content to stay an aide. Both of her parents were medicants, as was the eldest of her four siblings, a brother. But at her age, both of her sisters had either married or were soon about to be. However, Shumenia didn’t know any man she was tempted to marry, so it was a good time to commit to the three to five years of study and training required to be certified by the medicant society.

  Women medicants had been a minority in the conservative Eywell Clan. Her mother was an exception. Then everything changed. The Eywell hetman and his immediate family had fled with the Narthani. Owill Brell, an Adrisian and head of the intelligence operation during the war, was made the new hetman of a reconstituted Brell Clan after the original Eywell Clan was declared outcast for allying with the invader. The new hetman was receptive to the Paramount’s insistence that not allowing women more opportunities was both unjustified and a waste of abilities at a time when Caedellium needed every resource. The first major change for her family was Shumenia’s mother going from a low-ranking medicant in the Saint Borstal’s Cathedral complex to being one of the chief medicants. That position was previously held by an elderly medicant who longed for a distant age few people thought ever existed. His resistance to change resulted in Hetman Brell stripping his position from him and forcing his retirement. It was a declaration that encouraged Shumenia in weighing her plans.

  But that was in the future, and she still had today. She looked down the double row of twenty beds separated by curtains, fourteen beds occupied. She had lost one patient that morning, an elderly man whose breathing had become worse hourly in the last day. When he died, a chief medicant was angry.

  “If we could have kept him breathing for another day, maybe less, I think he would’ve recovered. The fever was going down and would’ve been gone within another couple of days, but his body was so weakened, his normal breathing couldn’t keep him alive. If only we had some way to help patients breathe. I’m going to write up a report to Hetman Brell to ask him to see if Paramount Kolsko has any suggestions. There’s probably nothing that can be done, but who knows? The Paramount seems to pull unexpected things out of the air.”

  Shumenia wondered the same thing, although she didn’t say anything. She stood in the back of the medicants and aides clustered around the deceased man’s bed. The man’s death had cast a shadow over the rest of her day, but not one too deep. She had lost other patients on her ward before, and she knew it was part of being a medicant.

  At least, that’s what she always told herself, and she had other patients still alive, most recovering. Her desk at the end of the room had twine-bound folders with daily observations on each patient, but she didn’t need to refresh her mind about their afflictions—she knew everything about each patient’s treatment.

  She started on the right side of the room. The first bed was empty. The second held a young woman who had had a difficult delivery. The baby arrived in good health, and the mother was recovering. However, the medicants wanted her to stay one more day. The third and fourth beds were two teenage brothers who had mistakenly eaten berries of the deathsbane bush. Fortunately, they had not eaten too many of the berries, which looked nearly identical to a widely consumed fruit. The younger brother had been teased and not allowed an equal share in the berries. When the older brother went into convulsions, the younger brother was able to run for help, and a medicant saved their lives with an herbal antidote.

  Both brothers smiled at her. The older one had begun to flirt with her, and the other followed suit, although it was more copying his brother than a true effort. She checked them quickly and moved on. The next two beds were empty. Then a man who had been kicked in the head by a horse. She had heard the medicants talking about the case. The man had lucid periods interspersed with incoherent ravings. She was ten feet from his bed when she knew it was one of his bad spells. He didn’t thrash but lay as if paralyzed, his head rocking back and forth on the pillow and words coming out of his mouth.

  Sometimes the utterances were sounds, rather than words. At first, she thought today was one of those times. It was only when she adjusted his coverings that she thought she recognized a word. Not a word she understood, but a sound she recognized as a word, though not in Caedelli. She stepped closer to the end of the bed and listened carefully. One word followed another, as if he were having a conversation. Five minutes later, she recognized the language and ran to find the medicant overseeing the aides.

  Owill Brell frowned at Verlan Kollar, boyerman of the province that included Hanslow. “So what if one of the patients at St. Borstal’s is mumbling in Narthani? Most of the ex-Narthani are in Preddi, but a few are in Brell Province.” The hetman paused involuntarily over naming the province. He still wasn’t completely accustomed to being elevated and charged with reforming an enemy clan. “Many of the people learned Narthani out of necessity or to garner favor. This includes women who voluntarily formed relationships.”

  “That’s the same thing I told Medicant Palburn after he insisted on seeing me. I wanted to dismiss him so I could return to work, but he’s an old friend and one of the most senior people at Hanslow’s Cathedral. I told him I would look into the man, mainly to have him go away. I assigned a junior aide to look into it. The next day, he came into my office accompanied by the city’s chief magistrate who had been asked to help when some facts needed deeper investigation.

  “The patient is a man named Wyntal. He’s from Stent, a small town near Clitwyeth, the capital. He and three other men brought a large flock of krykors to Hanslow as part of the program to restock farms that lost their animals during the fighting. The magistrate knew of a merchant who spoke fluent Narthani and arranged to have him rushed to the hospital the next time Wyntal raved. The merchant confirmed it was Narthani the man was speaking, and what he said was enough to investigate further.

  “Wyntal’s three companions all confirmed Wyntal was a Stent clansman they had known and worked with for four to five years. They had no knowledge that Wyntal knew Narthani, and as far as they knew, he’d had no contact with anyone outside of Stent Province. One of the men said Wyntal had told him he was originally from Bevans Province and moved to Stent to find work
.

  “Now, people do move between clans, but it’s not that common, and moving from Bevans to Stent seemed a long way to find work. To check further, requests were sent to both Stent and Bevans for information on the history of Wyntal. It took a sixday to get both responses. The Bevans clan has no record of Wyntal. Neither does the village he claimed to be from. Stent confirms Wyntal first appeared in the province five years ago. He has a small farm purchased with gold coins, a pregnant Stentanese wife, and a three-year-old child.”

  The boyerman shrugged. “That’s what we know. There could be simple explanations. Although Wyntal apparently had no opportunity to learn Narthani, it’s possible it happened anyway for innocuous reasons. Another option is his having secret contacts with the Narthani.”

  “Like being a spy for the bastards?” said Brell. “Is that what you’re implying?

  “It is suspicious, Hetman, and that’s one possibility. However, our merchant claims that what he heard from Wyntal didn’t sound like a Caedelli who had learned Narthani, especially one who had limited contact with them. He claims it sounded like fluent Narthani, and a version more like that spoken by the upper classes, as educated in Narthon, and not the common people. If I might make a suggestion, Hetman. We need to have an ex-Narthani with that kind of background listen to Wyntal.”

  Orosz City

  Yozef and Maera watched as Sissel Morgan opened a folder, picked up papers inside, and lightly tapped the bottom edges on the tabletop. She set the now precisely aligned pages back down. Gartherid Kennrick and Isla Kennrick-Lewis sat flanking Morgan. All three had been members of the clan’s Military Intelligence Unit (MIU) during the war. When MIU leader Owill Brell was elevated to hetman status to reform the Eywell Clan, Morgan had taken over as MIU head. The fifty-one-year-old woman was a grandmother, previously the only woman magistrate in Orosz Province, and had an eidetic memory. However, she was in the process of stepping down to spend more time with family and to help Maera organize an unofficial island-wide network of women who would keep Maera apprised of conditions that might not come to light through official channels. The Kennrick couple would assume leading the MIU. Gartherid Kennrick was a younger son of Pedr Kennrick, a chief adviser of Hetman Keelan. His loss of a leg when a youth prevented him from engaging in active military service, but his organizational talent had been put to use in the wartime MIU. Isla Luwis was the daughter of another Keelan adviser, Vortig Luwis. Isla’s meticulousness and ability to ask probing questions likewise proved invaluable in the MIU.

  Morgan cleared her throat and straightened her back. “I’ll start by saying that we have confirmed everything first reported by Hetman Brell. Since most ex-Narthani are in Preddi Province, I communicated in writing with Hetman Preddi and asked him to find two ex-Narthani who might be familiar with different dialects.” She stopped and looked up from the papers. “He sent to Hanslow Savronel Storlini, whom you know, and a man named Erman Haggi, who had been a student in Usmaya, the Narthani capital, before his family forced him to join the army as part of the family’s tradition. He evidently didn't take kindly to the life his family had coerced him into, and he opted to remain on Caedellium.

  “By my suggestion, Hetman Balwis had Storlini and Haggi travel separately, with neither knowing they were only one of two people going to assess Wyntal. The purpose was to make independent evaluations, which provides a higher level of confidence in their reports. Both of the evaluators believe Wyntal is a native-speaking Narthani from one of several bulaks near Usmaya, the Narthani capital. Haggi went further and says he thinks the man is from the southern part of Sirnik bulak.”

  “The what?” asked Yozef.

  “Bulaks are the Narthani versions of our provinces,” said Morgan. “What I mean is the administrative units of the empire, though more the size of the Landolin kingdoms. Sirnik is centrally located and is one of six or seven bulaks whose culture and ethnicity are closest to the original Narthani tribe that arose in north central Melosia to absorb neighbors and become the Narthon Empire. Storlini added that these bulaks tend to be the most fanatical followers of the god Narth and are true believers in Narthani destiny.”

  Yozef turned to Maera. “I think I see where this is going. Let’s pause and let me send for Tomis and Welman. They both need to hear this, and we can use their input. They’re both next door at the justice center getting briefed on other issues.”

  Tomis Orosz was hetman of the Orosz Clan. In addition to his duties as a hetman, his proximity made him a frequent fixture around the island’s developing administrative center expanding just south of Orosz City. Fortuitously, the Stent Clan hetman was visiting to meet with Yozef about developing ore processing sites. Both men were part of the five-man War Council that had led the final campaign against the Narthani. Yozef had been a third member. Only the hetmen of the Keelan and Farkesh clans were not presently in Orosz City. However, Maera could ably represent her father, and Yozef would send a report to Farkesh along with the other hetmen.

  They reconvened thirty minutes later. Morgan repeated her report for the two hetmen.

  “In summary, we have a man claiming to originally be from Bevans Province , which has no record of him. He allegedly moved to Stent, where he’s lived for several years, acquiring a wife and a child. We have found no evidence of him coming in contact with the Narthani. He even missed the fighting, due to a series of illnesses or accidents at fortuitous times. He’s a man who mysteriously speaks fluent Narthani with an accent specific to a region of Narthon. I’ll add that although there were Narthani on Caedellium from all parts of the Narthon Empire, most of the soldiers and civilians who were here came from its western bulaks and have distinctive accents and dialects.”

  She stopped without giving a conclusion, which annoyed Welman Stent. He looked around the table. “Well, it’s obvious to me. This Wyntal is an imposter. He’s really a Narthani who has kept his origin a secret. The only question is why?”

  “I suppose he could be a defector,” said Tomis. “Possibly worried about people’s reaction if they knew he was a Narthani.”

  “Really?” scoffed Stent.

  Orosz held up both hands. “I’m only offering it as a possibility. My gut tells me he’s a Narthani agent. However, even if he was planted by the Narthani to spy on us, it’s still possible he’s either a real defector or was accidentally left behind. In either case, he could be afraid to have his past revealed.”

  “There’s no point in speculating on these questions as yet,” said Maera. “We need more information. The easiest and most obvious way is questioning Wyntal, or whatever his real name is.”

  “We’ll have to decide how urgent the questioning is,” said Morgan. “Medicants in Hanslow believe he’s still quite ill but slowly recovering. If he’s to be questioned vigorously right now, the medicants might protest that he still is a supplicant to God’s mercy until he recovers.”

  “Do the medicants estimate when that might be?” asked Yozef.

  “Hetman Brell pressed the question to them. The answer he got was at least a sixday but probably no more than three sixdays.”

  “What if we insisted on the questioning right away?” asked Stent.

  “The problem is that he’s not always lucid,” said Morgan, “and even at other times, we couldn’t be sure whether he only seemed to be telling the truth. I recommend the questioning wait until we can be sure we can evaluate his answers.”

  “I think I agree,” said Yozef. He looked around the table. Everyone nodded, even Stent, though his expression conveyed impatience.

  “I won’t be able to wait for that,” said Stent. “I have to get back to Clitwyth, but I don’t think I’m the only one who worries there’s a lot more to be concerned about than this one man.”

  “If he is the only one,” Yozef agreed. “With all the turmoil, the fighting, people moving between clans, it’s not hard to see how any number of Narthani agents could be in our midst and pretending to be Caedelli.”

  Maera leaned f
orward in her chair, forearms on the tabletop. “Assuming there are more like Wyntal, what are their missions? Is it to take action, such as assassinations, or somehow pass information out to Narthon through mechanisms we don’t know about? Or is it to simply be in place to wait for future Narthani attempts at Caedellium?”

  “Moles,” Yozef muttered without thinking. He looked around. The others stared at him.

  “Uh . . . a mole is a small animal where I come from. It tunnels underground, and you hardly ever see them. The word is also used to describe a spy whose identity is unknown and who may be in a position to gather important information. Imagine if even a low-ranking person in my office or that of a hetman were one of these ‘moles.’ Consider what they might know about what’s happening on Caedellium—the semaphore and telegraph messages and letters they might see, reports, conversations overheard, gossip among workers, perhaps physically seeing things we’re trying to hide.”

  “God’s curse on those bastards,” exclaimed Stent. “Will Caedellium never be rid of them?”

  “It is what it is,” said Tomis Orosz. “Whether with God’s curse or blessing, he still leaves it up to us to solve problems.”

  “I know, I know, it’s just that—” Stent paused and took a deep breath. “All right . . . what do we do about it?”

  “Do we have any alternative except to search for more moles?” asked Yozef. “And before anyone says there’s too many people on the island to investigate everyone, I think we can come up with some criteria to narrow the focus. We can’t trust fortune revealing other agents as it did Wyntal, but we can be on alert for anything unusual. We can also use Wyntal as a starting example. Anyone who has moved from one clan to another since the Narthani first came. Anyone who shows knowledge of the Narthani or their language when they have no clear reason. Anyone who seems too interested in finding out information they have no obvious need to know.